


Five Things That Never Happened to Eric Bittle

by exbex



Series: Ceci n'est pas une pipe [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Unrealistic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And then you showed me up. In front of my father. That’s not acceptable, Bittle.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things That Never Happened to Eric Bittle

**Author's Note:**

> In which Jack is a sociopath.
> 
> Yes, I have a noncon kink. I also know the difference between fantasy and reality though, and what I approve of in fantasy does not tend to overlap with what I approve of in reality. This is dark; caveat lector. *sigh* One of these days I will write some fluff. Today is not that day.
> 
>  
> 
> Check Please! belongs (thankfully) to Ngozi Ukazu.

It’s Monday and Bitty is broodily watching youtube videos, as much as it’s possible to broodily scroll through one’s youtube subscription feed, but he’s holed up in his dorm room and steadfastly ignoring each of the following because it’s Monday after parent’s weekend and he should still be on a veritable high because of his game-winning goal but he’s not:

1) Each and every syllabus, upcoming mid-term exam, and project  
2) The way his metaphorical wounds are still oozing from Jack Zimmermann’s words  
3) Jack Zimmermann’s stupid face, with its stupid angular jaw and cheekbones  
4) Jack Zimmermann’s stupid, impossibly blue eyes  
5) Jack Zimmermann’s stupid, impossible abs  
6) Fucking Jack Zimmermann and his fucking attitude problem.

The knock on the door startles him, and when Bitty looks up, he realizes how much time has passed.

Jack Zimmermann is the last person that Bitty would have expected to see on the other side of the door, and, for a few moments, Bitty wonders if it’s not really Jack Zimmermann, but some doppelganger, because all of that Canadian politeness is gone, and Jack is pushing past him without a word, closing the door, and locking it.

Bitty blinks in confusion.

“You embarrass me out there on the ice on a regular basis, Bittle.” And in one fell, monotonous swoop, Jack Zimmermann manages to hurt his feelings even more deeply than before, which hadn’t seemed possible. Bitty opens his mouth to retort, to tell Jack to get out, but he snaps it closed when Jack turns around and bores those eyes, which suddenly resemble ice, right into him.

“And then you showed me up. In front of my father. That’s not acceptable, Bittle.”

Bitty is searching for something; an apology, a reassurance, but he doesn’t even have time to formulate it before Jack has him by the arms and is forcing him down to the bed, looming over him, eyes flashing. “You need to learn a lesson.”

The doppelganger theory is the only possible explanation for what happens next, Occam’s razor be damned. Bitty would think it’s some kind of weird dream, maybe a practical joke, but for the faint smell of alcohol on Jack’s breath. He’s never smelled anything in a dream before.

He’s barely aware of his pants and briefs being removed, of Jack shucking out of his own. He’s very aware of Jack growling at him “if you make a sound, I will end you,” of Jack taking him by the hips and pressing his cock right into him, of the panic that he feels over the size of it.

He wonders why it doesn’t hurt more. He wonders why he claps a hand over his own mouth. He wonders why, instead of closing his eyes or looking away, he watches Jack’s face the entire time, wonders why Jack looks so composed after it’s over.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this.” It’s not a question, or a request for reassurance. It’s not even a threat or a command. It’s a statement of fact. Jack doesn’t look at him as he leaves.

Bitty knows what he’s supposed to do. He even knows what he’s not supposed to do but will probably do anyway. It still takes him over an hour to get up and shower, check himself for injuries.

**

It’s 4 AM and Bitty is looking at himself in a mirror, wondering why he doesn’t look any different, even though he knows that’s absurd. 

It’s still not as absurd as the fact that he goes to Faber for checking practice as if nothing unusual has happened at all.

It doesn’t seem strange that Jack has ratcheted things up. He checks Bitty harder, is more aggressive, more curt. What is strange is that Bitty handles it better than he did before, that he doesn’t crumple into a ball, doesn’t black out.

“C’mon, let’s shower up.” Jack isn’t breathing from exertion, but the sweat has left his hair sticking to his forehead. Bitty thinks he should be tensing up, between the workout and the thought of being alone and naked and completely vulnerable with Jack, but he feels surprisingly calm. He’s just about to chalk it up to an especially bizarre, vivid dream, when he hears Jack approach, even through the sound of the water hitting the tile, sees him out the corner of the eye, and barely has time to even consider making a run for it before Jack has one arm around his chest, bringing his hand to cover his mouth.

Bitty feels Jack’s fingers, slicked with something cold-shower gel maybe-working him open, feels the pounding of his heart pulsating in his head, and begins to squirm. Strangely, Jack removes his hand from Bitty’s mouth, casually.

“Jack, no,” Bitty manages to gasp out, then whimpers as he feels the blunt head of Jack’s cock nudging into him.

“As if you can stop me,” Jack says mildly, before pressing the rest of the way in.

He should be crying, screaming, but instead what comes out is a barely audible “please,” and Bitty’s eyes widen when he feels a sensation low in his gut, one which he has come to associate with arousal.

It still doesn’t hurt as much as it probably should. But Bitty panics when he feels a new wetness on his leg that isn’t water. He looks down expecting to see blood, but it’s semen. 

He has to check that it’s Jack’s, not his own, and is mildly surprised to see that his own cock is still flaccid, and he’s jolted at the thought that he really is surprised by it.

Jack suddenly returns to fully efficient, hockey robot Jack. He washes them both off, turns the shower off, tosses Bitty a towel, and leaves.

**

Things go back to normal for the remainder of the semester. Jack glares at him when they’re placed on the same line, and Bitty is sure that Jack will corner him again soon afterward, but he doesn’t. Bitty pushes down the thought that he might be slightly disappointed by that fact.

It’s a college campus; there are posters everywhere that tell him what to do about this situation. For everyone who wouldn’t believe him, there is at least one person who would believe him. Bitty skypes his mother regularly, and doesn’t even blush or shift his eyes when Jack comes up. 

He should really be more concerned that getting a concussion in the final game of the season is the worst thing that has happened to him at Samwell.

When Jack finds him before he heads out to prospect camp, Bitty is struck by his doppelganger theory once again. Jack is awkward and apologetic without being specific, but nowhere in the “After everything that happened this year…” does Bitty get the sense that he’s apologizing for forcing himself on Bitty, and that really doesn’t bother him like it probably should.

The summer goes by in a blur, and sophomore year starts and he nearly loses his place on the roster. The checking clinics start up again, and there’s less tension in their relationship, and Bitty is ready to believe that he fabricated the entire thing, maybe as some type of side effect of his concussion. He feels guilty about that, wondering if he’s making light of head injuries, and then nearly becomes hysterical because he must be losing his mind. Just what did happen freshman year?

He stops wondering at the end of September.

Bitty has spent most of a Saturday in the kitchen. He’s pulled pies to cool and he wanders out to the living room to check the progress of the Mario Kart marathon, when Jack walks through the front door, lays his eyes on Bitty, and, without a word, motions to the stairs.

Bitty is in Jack’s room before he can even question it. Jack motions for him to lay down on the bed, and Bitty is reclining before he registers that Jack hasn’t even touched him. 

Jack’s leaning against the door that he hasn’t even bothered to lock, gazing steadily at Bitty.

“Ever sucked a cock before Eric?”

Somehow, the use of his first name is more shocking than the question itself. Bitty’s eyes widen as he shakes his head.

“Well, you’re in for a treat.”

Jack is suddenly advancing on him, and it occurs to Bitty that he could yell for help. Ransom and Holster alone would be enough to subdue Jack.

But Bitty doesn’t say a word, just lays still as Jack straddles him, frees himself from his jeans and briefs, and slowly guides his hard, leaking cock into Bitty’s mouth.

Bitty fully expects Jack to fuck his mouth, but he suddenly seems to have developed some patience. So Bitty tries to use his tongue, tries to suck in a way that might be pleasurable. It can’t possibly be very satisfying for Jack, and so Bitty isn’t exactly surprised when Jack pulls off and away from him.

Bitty is surprised when Jack shoves his t-shirt up his chest, bunching it under his armpits, and comes all over Bitty’s chest and stomach. “Don’t move,” Jack growls, and drags two fingers through the semen and slides them into Bitty’s mouth. Jack’s eyes narrow as he peers down at Eric. “You’re mine,” he murmurs. It’s not affectionate or seductive or even possessive or threatening, it’s just a statement of fact.

**

It speaks volumes about the insanity that is Bitty’s life that he’s basking in the glow of Jack referring to him as his friend when speaking to the Falconers GM. It also says something that he doesn’t even flinch later, when he’s in the kitchen and Jack comes up behind him, places his hands on Bitty’s shoulders, and says, with no preamble, “come upstairs when you’ve pulled whatever it is out of the oven.”

It should not please Bitty that Jack is willing to wait for Bitty’s cobbler to finish baking, just as Bitty should not do exactly as he is told. But he’s dutiful in walking upstairs and right into Jack’s room, closing the door behind him, dutiful in doing exactly as he’s told when Jack tells him to strip and lay down on the bed.

Of course Jack decides to switch things up. Before Bitty can even register it, Jack is kneeling and taking Bitty’s cock in his hand. Bitty doesn’t know what to think about the fact that he becomes aroused very quickly.

“Has anybody ever sucked you off before?” Jack doesn’t stop, or even look up to meet Bitty’s eyes.

“No,” Bitty replies. Jack doesn’t make any acknowledgement, just continues his ministrations until he’s apparently satisfied with Bitty’s erection and then sucks it into his mouth. 

Bitty clutches the bedspread with both hands, knuckles nearly going white, but doesn’t whimper until he has the idle thought that maybe he should ask Jack if he ought to be taking notes on technique, if what Jack’s doing is the way Jack likes it. He has his wits together enough to gasp out a warning to Jack, but Jack just continues sucking right through  
Bitty’s orgasm. Bitty loosens his grip on the bedspread just slightly, only to watch as Jack rises and begins removing his clothes, tossing them aside then reaching for the bedside table, sliding a drawer open and retrieving a tube of lubricant.

Bitty watches as Jack smears lube on his cock, and doesn’t know if what he’s feeling is dread or desire. But then, he hasn’t really known what is what for a while now.

Jack inserts his lube-slicked fingers right into Bitty, and Bitty wonders why he’s even bothering. He thinks that he must be shaking a little, but when he looks at his hands, they’re still.

Jack lines his cock up and penetrates without hesitation. This time it seems to hurt more, even with the lube, but then, it’s been so many months since Jack has fucked him, so maybe that’s why. “No one else has done this but me, right Bitty?” Jack asks as he begins to thrust.

“No,” Bitty gasps out, then bites his lip.

“Good. I don’t want anyone else in my territory,” Jack pants. Bitty gets it. He knows exactly what happens when someone wanders into Jack’s territory.

**

A few weeks pass, the Haus throws an epikegster right before winter break, and if Bitty wasn’t already convinced that he’s bouncing between alternate universes, he would be by the way Jack is casually, innocently, gently flirting with him.

And then Kent Parson shows up.

There’s little evidence to go on. Bitty can only hear bits of argument through Jack’s door. (He would feel guilty about eavesdropping, but what is eavesdropping among the long list of things that people are obviously capable of?) And it shocks him at how uncertain Jack sounds, at how aggressive Parson is, at the fact that Parson, who is smaller than Jack, seems to be dominating the situation, at how shaky Jack’s voice sounds when he tells Parson to leave.

When the door opens and their clothes are rumpled and Jack looks like he’s about to fall apart, Bitty is sure that he’s losing his grip on reality.

It’s the only explanation for why Bitty stands outside of Jack’s closed door and knocks softly, asking Jack to let him in. It’s the only explanation for why, when Jack opens the door and pulls him into his shaking arms and buries his face in Bitty’s front, Bitty strokes his fingers through Jack’s hair.

Eventually, the shaking subsides and Jack’s breathing evens out. He’s quiet for a long time, and the sounds of the party that’s still in full swing seem very far away.

“Bittle,” Jack sighs. “I need to be inside you.”

Predictably, Bitty moves away from the door and shrugs out of his sweater. He’s beginning to pull his t-shirt off when Jack stops him and pulls him into his arms again. Jack begins placing kisses on Bitty’s neck and collarbone, gentle ones, light as air and leaving no marks behind. “Bittle,” he murmurs, “When I’m fucking you, I….I feel like I’m in control for once. You know?”

‘Yes,’ Bitty wants to reply. ‘I do know. Very well, in fact. That makes you a textbook rapist. You know?’ But Jack places a kiss on Bitty’s mouth, his tongue insistently parting Bitty’s lips, and Bitty opens up for him, and this, this is what shatters Bitty into pieces. And he wonders if there’s any place on Earth that he could go that would be far enough away from Jack Zimmerman.


End file.
